


Steady Damage

by armored_alchemist



Series: Agape [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Absent Parents, Beauty - Freeform, Blood, Character Death, Damage - Fit For Rivals, Love at First Sight, Multi, Pedophilia, Prosthetics, Self-Sacrifice, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armored_alchemist/pseuds/armored_alchemist
Summary: One shot based on RoyEdIsMyAesthetic's story, Obsession. Standalone."I used to play checkers with my baby brother Alphonse. He's not here anymore... I miss him so much.But it's not my fault. He wouldn't speak a damn word so I cut his tongue out. He screamed in agony and I watched him choke on his own blood."





	Steady Damage

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Obsession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408870) by [RoyEdIsMyAesthetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyEdIsMyAesthetic/pseuds/RoyEdIsMyAesthetic). 



[Steady damage, cross the line  
What's become is clearly defined.]

°°°°°°°°°°•°°°°°°°°°°

Alphonse crossed a line. 

I used to play checkers all the time, with him, when he was alive. But he's not here anymore. I miss him so much.

I miss Roy too. I'm constantly told he was no good for me, that his presence was like some sort of disease that slowly infected me, tainting me and making me sick. I don't think that's right. If I am sick, I was always sick. 

All those nasty things they say about him? They're wrong. All wrong. Roy was the only good thing I had in my life. He was a light at the end of a very dark tunnel that I'd previously seen no escape from.

Roy Mustang, my own personal glimmer of hope, appeared at the time when I needed hope the most. I was...depressed, and he picked up on that immediately. The only thing I caught from him was his smile, a smile I'd long since forgotten how to do. Or happiness. But even better, love.

\--------------

I can't say much about my father, but he at least had continuity. Always gone, and always the same reason why. He left Alphonse and I alone in the apartment building many times as he ventured out on something alchemy-related. Mother had passed on when we were very young. It wasn't until I informed him, upon one of his few arrivals, of the fact my brother and I hadn't eaten for several days that he finally shoveled over some money to a nanny. 

Dad had departed once again, this time to America without so much as a goodbye. I figured he was lying about the babysitter, of course. Al and I had just started our third game of checkers when we heard a knock on the door. We were confused. It wasn't dad; it'd only been a week. Nobody ever visited. So who, what, and more importantly, why?

Oh. The nanny. I'd opened the door then and was met with a man so beautiful I had no words to describe him. He told me, with a voice so mellifluous it captivated my 12 year old self in all my naïveté, that his name was Roy van Hessler. I remember hoping he didn't hear the tremble in my own voice. And that he didn't notice how much I stared.

I also remember the look in Alphonse's eyes. I didn't have a word for it then but I suppose it was hatred, or at the very least jealousy. No, I don't think he hated me yet. Maybe he never did. Maybe it was Roy he didn't like. I'll never know because he's not here to tell me.

Not that he would've told me anyway. Something shifted a little between us, so imperceptible I didn't at first notice. He wouldn't tell me what was on his mind. He wouldn't tell me why he was so closed off and rude to van Hessler, who did nothing but feed us and take us to the park where we'd laugh and play like kids. Alphonse... I didn't know why but ever since van Hessler arrived he'd basically quit talking.

One thing that never changed, however, was the checkers. We always played. It was just a little routine-type deal that provided a sense of calm to Alphonse. The one thing he could depend on. I always wanted to make him happy, so we'd play every night, even though some nights I didn't really want to. He was very good at it. I remember the way he'd smile every time he won.

One day, van Hessler had taken us both to the park. Alphonse mentioned how pretty the sky was. I shrugged because I didn't give a damn about something so unimportant as the weather. A nudge in my side made me turn my head to meet Alphonse's disbelieving look. I smiled, thinking to myself how different I was, that I much preferred to see beauty in unusual places. 

To answer my brother, I replied that the sky wasn't as pretty as Hessler's eyes, and Alphonse pushed me so hard I hit the ground. Probably just as a joke, it was an accident, he didn't mean to make me fall. Turns out I'd scraped my wrist a bit. 

Roy immediately rushed us back to the apartment. As soon as we entered the living room, he inspected the injury. He gave it a little kiss where the boo-boo was. I thought nothin' of it. Just a kiss..right? The way he gazed into my eyes as he did it was what got me. I couldn't deny that. That exact moment was when I realized I felt something more than gratefulness to this beautiful man who had clothed and fed me and gave me the sense of security I'd never had. I loved him. And not only that, I loved him.

Alphonse... I don't know why, but after that day the shift between us grew a little. He didn't talk to me for a week. An entire week. Not even checkers. I think he saw us, Roy and I. I think he knew, too. 

I cried at the sudden cease of communication between us - not for lack of trying on my end. In retrospect I welcome it, because had Alphonse not distanced himself, Roy would never have pulled me into his lap the night he saw me cry. Roy wouldn't have rocked me back and forth, he wouldn't have gazed into my eyes like he did at the park, and he wouldn't have pushed a velvety soft tongue into my mouth, unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Sometimes I touch myself to those memories. They're much preferable to their competition.

Roy had stopped me before we got any farther, despite how hot and bothered we both were. He was a good man. Even though there was nothing wrong with what we were about to do, he didn't want to ruin my innocence. 

I was just a horny teenager, they tell me, I didn't know any better. I was too young to know the difference.

I knew fucking better. 

I knew better. I CHOSE better. My life was shit and I chose better and I have nothing to show for it, for no other reason than the death of everyone I loved. 

Following the park event, Roy seemed to spend more and more of his time with me, lavishing me - and only me - with attention. Suddenly Alphonse had a multitude of friends pop up out of thin air who wanted to take all of his time up so he had none to spend with me or Roy. Of course it hurt me that he would go out of his way to avoid me, but no matter - Roy had been conveniently there every single time I was blown off to take up the slack. 

Have I said I loved him? Because I loved him.

Roy was in the shower and Al chose that time to walk out. He had a small bag packed, to spend the weekend elsewhere I'd supposed. I begged him to stay instead and he did. He embraced me tightly and I swallowed and returned the favor. We tripped over our own words trying to decide who should apologize first. I offered a game of checkers and he eagerly accepted. 

Roy shocked us both. Came out of the shower covered by only a towel. I wasn't sure why I couldn't stop staring at the small droplets of water working their way down over every delicious part of his steaming body. I know now. I didn't then. 

Roy was not rude, no never.  So he didn't ask why Alphonse wasn't gone yet. He wanted to. I saw that in his eyes. Smile though he may, he couldn't hide that. After all, why walk out of the shower almost naked, thinking I was the only one in the house? He spared Alphonse a glance and headed into his room, offhandedly mentioning the leftover food in the icebox if we got hungry later. 

Frankly, I found it quite funny, even then and more so now, that I was hiding from Alphonse and yet also hiding from Roy.

I was caught in the middle.

One night Roy had me up against the wall. Quite literally. My back against the wall and the warmth of his body heat flush against mine comforting me while in hushed tones we confessed our love to each other. I told myself I was calm but my eager lips belied that. God, I wanted him. He pressed his mouth to mine and I felt my full metal heart melting into something soft like gold. (A/N: bad pun, sorry not sorry) My eyes flickered open ever so slightly and from periphery I saw a flash of motion gone as soon as I registered it, perhaps sooner. 

The next day, a Saturday, Alphonse offhandedly called out as he departed that he was spending the weekend with Fletcher, another unknown friend to spontaneously generate from nowhere. I didn't even have the privilege of objecting as he'd shut the door before I'd rubbed sleep out of my eyes. My heart ached a little, but out of sight out of mind. 

Roy certainly provided an all-consuming distraction. Instead of having German lessons, we did something we probably shouldn't have done. But I don't regret it. He gave me something I needed. 

And I gave him likewise. I was vulnerable, my prosthetic arm exposed. He made to touch it and I shied away. He asked why. I responded that I was ugly, though that was an understatement. Roy caressed my face gently, lifting my chin and taking my gaze captive with eyes of swirling onyx, and murmured ever so softly, so softly I had to lean closer to hear, that he saw beauty in things that others do not.

And we made love. Yes... Love. 

You don't believe that? I can't understand because I'm not in my right state of mind? Then let me clearly define it. 

There are four types. 

Agape, sacrificial love for the goodwill of another. Too basic.

Philia, platonic regard for companions and community. There was nothing platonic of us. Not of the collision of a tempest and a volcano. There must be more...

Storge, unconditional love and affections for family and likewise. Our love was unconditional, yes - and maybe he was the father I craved. But this, too, lacks the essential piece.

Ah, and then there is Eros. Semblance of beauty. Sexual passion. This is us. And yet, my flame and I are aspects of all four. Perhaps each type is merely a fragment of the whole and when the whole is united, then one can truly say... One is in love.

See, I'm old enough. I'm old enough to know what love is. The men in the white coats say I'm not.

Please, don't you understand?! Not only do I love him, I need him. Roy is important. Roy is everything. He makes me feel pleasure and pain and a simultaneous assault of both which cause delirium so poignant I liken it to bouts of schizophrenia. He makes me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling. He touches me; fills me up and makes me whole. He says I'm beautiful, perfect - even crippled as I am. But even better, I'm his favorite. He tells me I'm far more special than any of the others. 

Silly as it sounds, he's the lord of my heart. He's my one. He's my only. And I'd hoped he'd be my always.

Many more nights of passion followed the first. Alphonse all but abandoning me like our father did, I at least found peace in having the apartment to ourselves for a few hours, or days at a time, depending on Al's mood. 

Roy and I had an unspoken mutual agreement: there was no need to hide what we had. It was ours. That empty house had been our sanctuary to do as we pleased. Once inside we shared our love freely.

But I 

I should have watched

More carefully out the corner of my eyes.

I didn't even see him there, my brother there, watching Roy and I make copious amounts of love. And because of it, Alphonse crossed a line. I never would have suspected him of such violent jealousy. Of Mustang? Of me? I shan't know that either. He couldn't tell me even if he wasn't covered in dirt.

I suppose Al got what he wanted.

Roy found out a few nights later and I walked out of the bedroom the following morning mottled with bruises. I begged him, it wasn't my fault. It never was, none of the times. But he wouldn't believe me. And so he kept on and kept on hurting me until I considered an alternative. I wasn't loved here. The only person who had ever loved me was Mom.

But I was thrwarted; taking pity, Roy pulled me close and explained the situation to me. After much thought I came to a conclusion. I did something I feared I would regret, but regret never came and it never will. I understand that I've something horrible. I paid the price with my innocence, twice. But see...what I did was the best decision I've made on my twenty years on this earth. 

He was finally under my control.

It's not my fault. He wouldn't talk. He refused to establish communication between us. He shunned me. Not my fault. He wouldn't speak a damn word so I cut his tongue out. He screamed in agony and I watched him choke on his own blood. 

Is it bad that it felt so good?

I mean, I was mad, of course. Who wouldn't be? But on my own I never would have considered reciprocating the violence. It's not my fault. It's Roy's fault.

I know he's crazy. I know that. I love him. And he's crazy.

Crazy, not evil. They condescend his pedophilic ways and tend to gloss over the fact that he convinced me to murder my baby brother. Idiots. Pedophilia is merely a four syllable word used by someone who is too simple minded to contemplate the earth-shattering loss of a father figure.

Roy van Hessler killed my brother, so I returned the favor with a shard of glass in his neck. (He was trying to fuck all our problems away.) Feeling it as it pierced his pale skin was quite satisfying. Peace of mind, after what's been done to me.

So I'm alone now. My wife? Yes, I remember her. She's too fond of me for my liking but I'll deal with it for fear of elsewise being sent to the asylum again to spend the rest of my days in that hell. 

The sight of my childhood home had become a nebulous vision in my memory, until i saw it in person once more. I gawked about in childlike wonder. When my eye had its fill, I tolerated and quickly escaped my wife's smothering embrace. I knew exactly what I wanted to be near and I strode straight to it. I sat at the table, dusting off the checker board abandoned mid-game. 

I let out the shaky breath I'd been keeping captive since I'd been whisked away and begun my eulogy, my last ode to him.

"Dad didn't goodbye when he left, and that made you sad, but you were happy that we had the apartment to ourselves for a few hours. I always did my best to keep you entertained. We played pretend."

I paused. Tried to steel myself against emotion.

"And we had so much fun Al, we really did. We laughed and giggled. I made us lunch and...And we....." My voice broke with tears, hatred and sacrifice born of love.  "Played checkers together, in the living room.

"And because it made you happy, I let you win every single time."


End file.
